


The Arrow and the Song

by Cortesia



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, AU-typical tropes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Hartwin, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Slow Burn, slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 07:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4952059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cortesia/pseuds/Cortesia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is not so unbelievable that we might be right for each other, you and I? For I have loved you for longer than even I care to admit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eggsy 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my unholy union of three of my favorite fandoms, plus one of my favorite tropes. Chapters will follow at a good interval, and will rotate between the three main characters (Eggsy, Q, and John). I'm not entirely sure how long this is going to be, but it will cover the events of Kingsman (V-Day), Skyfall, and the Reichenbach Fall. I'll likely not be adding in elements from the upcoming film Spectre unless they are super important plot stuff.

The thing about being an Omega was that Eggsy had always known he was one. Sure, his mum and dad tried to keep it from him, but he’d known it in his soul as surely as one knows their eye color or the sound of their voice as it sounds to only themselves. It’s been a part of him since before he _was_ , and even as a young boy, he knew there was something special about him. He doesn’t know any other Omegas, and he’s only ever seen a couple of Alphas, friends of his dad’s from the Marines that had dropped by every once in a while for parties and dinners and the like. None of them ever seemed to notice it in Eggsy or smell it on him, and he surely wasn’t going to be the one to tell them. Everyone said that you keep that part of yourself private; that you don’t talk about such things. His kindergarten teacher said so, his Sunday school teacher said so, his mum said so. That was good enough for Eggsy. And for all that Eggsy was young, he was sharp.

He saw the fear in his mother’s eyes when he had to get blood drawn at the GP, checking to see if he had been exposed to lead in the run-down council flats like so many other children. Saw the relief when the doctor mentioned nothing about his secondary gender. Watched her slip the young nurse with kind eyes and a scent like his own some money that Eggsy knew was meant for groceries. He knew his mum and dad couldn’t smell things they way he could; they’d tried telling him it was because he was a child, or because he was just gifted. He knew better; he knew that kind of sense was only that good in Alphas and Omegas. And though no one had told him explicitly which he was, he knew. And he knew that scared his parents more than anything.

So Eggsy did what everyone had said, and didn’t talk about it. He kept quiet when they talked about Alphas and Omegas in primary school; he kept quiet when friends on the playground tried asking everyone they knew. Eggsy let them believe what they wanted, and he was fine with that. He didn’t completely understand why everyone was so up in arms over it, but he figured that was another “when you’re older” thing his mum had promised to talk about some time.

Then his dad died.

Eggsy recalled with perfect clarity the moment the Alpha who had come to their flat told his mum that his dad wasn’t coming home. It was just before Christmas, and Eggsy had been helping his mum bake all day. The flat smelled like cookies, and she had promised him they would pack some up and send them to his dad on his deployment. Eggsy had been sneaking bites of cookie dough and the little sugary decorations they were going to use, and now his stomach hurt. He was sitting on the floor, playing with one of his mum’s snow globes, trying to ignore the pain in his stomach when a knock rang out through the living room. His mum went to answer the door, the chilly blast of wintry weather blowing across Eggsy’s face as he watched. There was a man there, a tall man with a lovely long coat and warm scarf like the ones Eggsy saw on the telly. The man had spoken quietly to his mum, and she let him inside, and sat at the small sofa to talk. He cast off his jacket over the arm of the small sofa.

Eggsy could smell that he was an Alpha, and was curious about what he wanted with his completely Beta mother. Soon, though it became clear. He wanted to make her shout and cry. Eggsy didn’t like the man already, his own soft Omega scent rising with a sharp note of distress that caused the man to peer over at him with startled brown eyes. The man watched him, and Eggsy saw him inhale deeply and then blink a few times as if in shock. His mum made a broken off noise and tried to stand, to put herself between Eggsy and this strange, mean Alpha.

The man smiled a sad sort of smile, the kind that Eggsy normally hated seeing on people, and looked back at his mum. He said something soft again to her, and came over to crouch in front of Eggsy.

“What’s your name, young man?”

“Eggsy,” he said softly, not wanting to make this man angry enough to make his mum cry again. His scent was still distressed, and he could smell the fear it was laced with on himself. The man rocked back a bit, trying not to loom over the fearful young thing in front of him.

“Hello Eggsy,” the man said, watching him. Eggsy didn’t want to look him in the eye, but liked how he smelled, so he was stuck. He didn’t like the man because he’d made his mum cry, but the clean and warm Alpha scent he exuded made Eggsy feel safe. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of it.

“May I see that?” One large hand reached out for the snow globe in Eggsy’s hand and he handed it over with a small nod. The man smiled that sad smile again and shook the globe, sending the glittering shards inside floating and dancing in the soft lights of the Christmas decorations. A calloused thumb lifted Eggsy’s head and he looked into the man’s face. It seemed nice, kind even, though Eggsy wasn’t sure he wasn’t just hiding his meanness. As if the man could read his mind, he gave Eggsy a small look of mock-sternness. Eggsy smiled a little despite his internal conflict. The man chucked him a bit under the chin and looked back at Eggsy’s mum.

“You take care of this,” he said, turning back to Eggsy and handing him the little medal he’d tried offering mum. “Take care of your mum, too.”

Eggsy nodded mutely, watching the man stand again and take his coat. He gave Eggsy’s mum one last look and left. Eggsy sat quietly until his mum got up and went to her bedroom. He didn’t dare look at her or try to make a mess or noise; he knew she was upset. He just got up and tidied a few of his toys he’d left out. As he was chasing down a stray matchstick car, he saw that the scarf the strange man had left had fallen on the floor between the end table and the sofa. He grabbed it and went to the front door to peer out and see if the man as still there. Eggsy opened it quietly, trying not to alert his mum, and walked out to the balcony that connected all the flats’ front doors. He saw the man getting into a black cab, and though he threw a hand up and cried out, the cab sped away.

Little Eggsy sighed, his breath a frosty cloud in the moonlit night. He clutched the scarf tightly in his hand, the warmth of the flat swiftly fleeing his little body. Without thinking, he raised it to his face and inhaled deeply the scent of Alpha and safety. In his pocket lay the medal the older man had given him, all but forgotten under the richness of the wool against his face.

‘If all Alphas smelled like this, maybe things wouldn’t be so bad,’ he thought. ‘Maybe.’


	2. Alexander 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Rape/non-con in this chapter (not for the main character). Also some coarse and degrading language.

It’s incredibly frustrating, being trapped inside of a toy box. Alexander's known this fact for years, and though logically he knew William or Thomas, whichever happened to be seated upon the lid, would let him loose eventually… well it didn't change the fear that accompanied this action every time it’d been forced upon him. He sighed, his 6-year old self trembling in the pitch blackness of the box. It was some antique that Mummy had found in a shop in Hertfordshire, and though he had placed it in Alexander’s room for his various toys, William (bane of his existence) had immediately stolen it and hidden his broken chemistry utensils within. Soon, however, it became clear to both William and Thomas that it was perfectly sized for containing Alexander when either one was in a particularly stroppy humor.

Still, it didn’t make him feel any better to know that he’d be let out at some point. Alexander had long since resigned himself to bearing the brunt of his brothers’ lawless behavior, though Thomas was only really a bastard about things when home on longer school breaks. During the school year Eton was his castle, leaving Alexander and William to their own devices. Luckily, though, Mummy and Father had found another school willing to take a chance on William, so Alexander wasn’t terribly worried about lasting against his brothers’ onslaught in perpetuity once autumn came about in earnest.

But it was awfully dark in there. Alexander thumped his small fists against the lid once more, and was surprised to see a sliver of light crack through the darkness. Apparently he'd been freed from gaol. Now for the why. It wasn't the first time William had done this before, pretending to be gone only to ambush him later with something worse. Alexander didn't know any war refugees, but he was certain he'd have fit in among them given the state of affairs at the Holmes household. He sat up, pressing up on the wooden lid, and peered out myopically. They always took his glasses when they tormented him, but Mummy had promised to get him contacts once the school year began. Alexander didn't hold out much hope for them remaining useful, but one could dream.

Feeling no resistance that could indicate a rigged trap, Alexander pitched the lid up and off, and scrambled to climb out. His breath always caught and his heart always raced when he made his escapes, regardless of how calm he had tried to be while trapped. He knew he would need to temper that reaction with time, as William and Thomas were incredibly perceptive to any and all perceived weaknesses. Alexander righted the lid, and sat upon it to catch his breath.

He got up and wandered out of his room, keeping aware of the potential for snares and pitfalls. He left the theatrical pranks to William; Thomas' were much more clever, and thus much more painful. So it was with a careful and steady motion that Alexander fled the house. Their home wasn't in London despite William's demands to move there on an almost weekly basis. They lived in Sussex, and their property abutted a small wood. It had a clear stream running through it where Alexander could always find silvery fish swimming lazily down the current. William once tried to catch some with a homemade trap, but ended up soaking his best woolen trousers and nearly freezing to death because of his conviction that he could survive in the wilds of Sussex without the trappings of modern society (he couldn’t).

Alexander walked through the woods for what felt like hours, his hands trailing across the plants and various trees that grew there. He heard a cracking stick, heavier than something falling, and paused to look around. Rarely did they see a deer, or the occasional fox. But this wasn’t the kind of noise that came from an animal. It was deliberate, and unwelcome on what should have been private property. While William and Thomas were the perceptive ones, Alexander was no slouch. He couldn’t read people the same way they could, but he could evaluate a situation better than either one. And the situation he was hearing in the woods was an unpleasant one. He pressed himself against a large tree trunk as the noises shifted, trying to hide from whatever might be lurking in the steadily waning daylight. Soon the cracking became rustling, then voices.

_Angry voices. Scared voices._

Alexander crept forward towards the noise. He stayed low and in the growing shadows until he came to a scene he realized dimly that he’d never forget: A man, lying atop a clearly struggling woman, her skirt hiked up and his trousers around his knees. Alexander was hit with a wave of genuine fear as he watched what unfolded. He knew the word for it, but not what it truly implied. What struck him as almost worse than the sounds of pain and violation was the twisted words of the man as he grunted over her.

“Filthy fucking slut. Your kind are always asking for it, ain’t ye? Gonna show you what it means to be fucked by a real alpha. Not that pansy queer normie you been letting in yer cunt. Gonna give you a knot big enough to make you bleed. My omega whore, ain’a ya? Nobody’s gonna pay for your sloppy little hole now, is they?”

Alexander ran. He didn’t care if they heard him; he had to run. He didn’t care about the scratched from the leaves and branches that he pushed through. He didn’t mind the fact that he was leaping from dirty log to dirty log when he normally was so careful to keep his clothing and shoes clean and lovely. When he finally spied the lights blazing ahead from the windows of his parents’ house, he pushed harder. It was full dark by the time he hit the front door with a solid thwack, his little lungs burning and filling as fast as they could. Thomas opened the door, and the sight of Alexander’s tear and dirt stained face made him swear, earning a rebuke from their father. The look of shock on Father’s face was even more stunned than Thomas’.

“Christ, Alex! What happened son?!”

“Woman… woods… she… she…” Alexander panted. He couldn’t breathe enough in to get the words out.

“Shh, son, easy now. Slowly.”

“No! He was hurting her! _He was hurting her!_ ” Alexander hyperventilated, wheezing out the last part at Father.

“Where, Alex? Where in the woods?”

“Past… stream…. west. Southwest. At least two miles. Ran… home. Father, please!”

“Shh now. I’ll have Mummy ring the police. How was he hurting her, Alex? The police will want to know.”

Alexander sniffled, wiping the running mucous from his nose with a filthy hand. His allergies and asthma were going haywire with his exertion.

“She… _Omega_ … he was…he was…” He turned wide eyes up at his father, impossibly deep for such a young boy, and filled with tears.

“Alright lad. Go on to the kitchen with Thomas. I’ll take care of it.” Father handed him a clean handkerchief and gave Thomas a sharp look. His brother nodded and slipped his thick arms around Alexander. He let himself be all but dragged to the kitchen where Mummy and William were having a snack and some tea.

“Good heavens Alex, what happened?!”

Thomas answered in his even tenor, though he was paler than normal and Alexander could hear the sentiment behind his words.

“Apparently he found a crime scene.” Alexander didn’t miss the way William’s eyes lit up at Thomas’ pronouncement, but couldn’t find it in himself to care. Visions of what he had spied were forefront in his mind, and he couldn’t shake them.

Father came into the kitchen, the cordless phone in her hands.

“Will, Tom, go upstairs. We’ll call you down later.” Father’s tone brooked no argument.

The boys trudged sullenly upstairs, leaving Alexander, Mummy, and Father alone in the kitchen.

“Alex-,” Father started. She shook her greying head, and wiped a palm over her stress-framed eyes.

“I need to talk to the police, don’t I?” Alexander asked quietly, arms wrapped around his small body in a parody of a comforting hug.

“Yes, in the morning. Alex… do you understand what you saw?” Father’s voice sounded upset, though her demeanor hadn’t changed.

“He was hurting her.”

“Yes, but do you understand how?”

“I’m six, Father, not a baby. I know that Alphas and Omegas do something to have babies. I just don’t think what I saw was very… nice.”

“Indeed it wasn’t, Alex. Yes, Alphas and Omegas mate. Knowing your brothers, they’ve shown you anatomy charts in lurid detail by now so I won’t insult you by making up names for them. But there must always be consent. Do you know what that word means?” Mummy’s voice sounded calmer than Father’s but he still hovered.

“Yes. It means saying it’s okay to do something.”

“Quite right. And what you saw… there was no consent there. Do you understand?”

Alexander bit his thumb and thought. He knew objectively that whatever they were doing, it wasn’t right. But he also knew that sometimes he and Will and Tom were sent away so that Father could “take care” of Mummy in a way that always set Mrs. Pettijohn giggling. He didn’t much care for the elderly neighbor woman who watched out for the boys when their parents were indisposed, and the things she’d mutter about when they were there to stay for the week made him wonder.

“Was she in heat?” Alexander’s earnest question shocked his parents, and they exchanged a look before turning back to their youngest son.

“Why would it matter, son?” asked Father, her soft voice growing sharper.

“Because Mrs. Pettijohn said that heats meant that Omegas lost their minds. That they would ‘present for any Alpha nearby.’” Alexander’s nose wrinkled at the unfamiliar phrase he’d heard the elderly woman use.

Mummy drew in a sharp breath and looked at Alexander directly. He always liked it when Mummy got it into his head to debate. Unlike Father, he never treated the boys like their brains matched their bodies’ ages.

“Heats are no such thing. Am I right in thinking that you’ve considered that if _I_ have heats since I’m an Omega, then I must lose my mind and therefore cannot give consent? And that if the women you saw earlier was in heat then that explains things?”

Alexander nodded.

“Consider then, that by that definition, Father here is just as guilty of hurting me as the man in the forest you saw is guilty of hurting that woman.”

Alexander pursed his lips and thought further. When he spoke, it was slow though confident.

“Then it doesn’t matter that he was an Alpha and she was an Omega. She didn’t say ‘okay’ and that’s wrong. If the man hadn’t said ‘okay’ and she hurt him it would be just as wrong?”

“Exactly right, Alex,” Father’s smile was grim, though Alexander could tell she was proud of him for working out a moral quandary on his own at 6.

“But he said all kinds of bad things. Are Omegas bad?”

Mummy answered, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement despite the grim situation.

“No, my baby boy. Omegas aren’t bad. And they’re no weaker than Alphas or Betas, no matter what other people might tell you. There are fewer of us, yes. We’re a rarer gender than Alphas, and certainly more so than Betas. But we’re equal under the law, and under the eyes of whatever Creator there might be. And no matter what you or your brothers end up being, you’ll always be equal to your father and I.”

Alexander didn’t bother to mention the sticky-sweet smell that clung to Thomas twice a year that reminded him of Mummy’s scent before they were sent to the neighbor. He didn’t bother to mention the increasingly violent and anger-fueled outbursts of William, a tell-tale sign of early presentation in Alphas according to the textbooks he had stolen from Thomas last year. His parents hadn’t yet noticed, or if they had they weren’t speaking of it yet. He just hoped that his own gender, whatever it came to be, wasn’t as extreme.

After all, he was the sanest one of his brothers. It only made sense that they should each be unique.

****  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm over at tumblr: awesomehartwintrash.tumblr.com


End file.
